scared (but reckless)
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Or all the ways that Dean and Piers fall in love:: nonlinear
1. At Night

_Word Count: 1038_

* * *

i.

He stays at the graveyard a little too long. God knows it isn't because Piers actually misses his parents. If anything, he likes to linger, to try and process that they're really gone, and the abuse is over. Even after two years of freedom from their toxic ways, he has trouble processing that they're really gone.

By the time he reaches Magnolia Crescent, the sky is inky black. Stars dot the darkness, adding a soft glow to the night.

That's when he notices him. Piers has seen his new neighbor around, but he hasn't paid much attention to him. Now, the boy is outside, arms folded under his head as he stares up at the sky. Maybe Piers should keep walking. They're strangers, and he likes to keep to himself. Instead, he pauses at the edge of the Thomas family's yard. "You actually like stargazing?" he asks, and it sounds more insulting than curious. Piers' cheeks burn. "I just mean… You know… I've always found it boring."

His neighbor laughs. "I could lay out here all night. It's peaceful," he says. He sits up, studying Piers silently for a few seconds before offering him a smile. "I'm Dean."

"Piers."

"Want to join me?"

…

It goes like that all summer. The two of them watch the night sky together, laughing and talking for hours. Piers' cousin-turned-guardian, Max, never minds Piers staying out late, as long as he's safe. It's just another refreshing taste of freedom, and he loves it.

…

The night is theirs. He feels at peace when he's with Dean. World is tough and cruel, but Dean is good and kind.

He doesn't know when the shift happens or what causes the change, but Dean kisses him, and Piers feels a flutter in his stomach. He hadn't even known that he'd wanted it until it happened.

"Sorry," Dean mutters. "I…"

Piers leans in and kisses him again. "I liked it."

ii.

Piers is halfway asleep when he hears the noise at his window. He grabs the nearest object-a shoe, hardly a good defense against some creepy monster-and sits up. A moment later, Dean's face appears in the window, and Piers feels a flutter of relief.

He climbs to his feet and crosses the room, opening the window. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asks. He hadn't even realized Dean was back from his fancy private boarding school for the summer. "It's nearly midnight."

Dean crawls through the window, shrugging. "It occured to me I've never snuck through your window," he says.

Piers rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot."

"I'm just saying, we've been dating for two years now. Seems like it's time for me to do it." He takes Piers by the hand. "Come on. I've got something amazing to show you."

…

He doesn't actually expect to fall in love with Dean. Loving him is one thing, but being in love is a big deal.

And yet he's falling. Gravity seems to fade, and he's so scared he's going to float away if he isn't careful.

Somehow, he doesn't care. The fall is comfortable, and he is in love, and he thinks that maybe Dean feels the same way.

iii.

"Oi," Piers says, playfully nudging Dean as they walk through the streets. The snow glistens in the moonlight as it crunches between their feet. "It's not my fault I lost the tickets."

Dean laughs. "You would lose your head if it wasn't attached to your neck," he teases

Piers is silent for a moment. He scowls. "Fine. Fair point," he concedes.

Dean smirks at that, wrapping an arm around him. "Because I'm always right."

"Don't push it."

…

Piers stands before his parents' graves. They would be so ashamed of him if they were alive.

Somehow, the thought is funnier than it should be. It makes what he has with Dean feel even more right.

"At least I'm not like you were," he whispers.

iv.

When they're seventeen, Dean appears at his window at night again. Piers looks up from the plate of birthday cake he had been nibbling on. His smile fades the moment he sees the look in Dean's eyes.

"What happened?"

Dean doesn't answer. He slides though, hurrying to Piers and guiding him to his feet. Their lips meet, and Piers can taste the goodbye in his kiss.

But it isn't goodbye yet. Dean holds him close, kissing him again, harder and more desperate. "Please," Dean whispers. "Please."

Piers doesn't understand, but he knows he will be whatever Dean needs him to be.

…

When he wakes in the morning, Dean isn't beside him, though his West Ham jersey is. Piers holds it to his chest and breathes in the familiar scent. Dean wouldn't just leave it by accident; it's his favorite shirt, practically his second skin.

Piers doesn't know what to do, so he just pulls the jersey over his head, trying to ignore the tears that cling to his lashes.

v.

It's nearly a year before he sees Dean again. One night, Piers is staring at the stars, making wishes on each and every one of them. He wishes for the same thing every time, but he's starting to give up hope.

"I guess stargazing isn't so boring anymore."

The familiar voice sends a jolt through his body. Piers bolts upright, blinking rapidly. Dean is standing before him, exhausted but smiling. It's him; it's really him.

"Where have you been?"

Dean collapses beside him, laying back in the grass. "Have I got a story for you…"

…

By the end of it, Piers is still confused. Wizards, magic, potions. It doesn't make any sense. Somehow, he doesn't care. He doesn't believe in fate, but he can't shake the feeling that they're meant to be, and nothing else really matters.

"While I was on the run, I got to thinking. I was… I don't know. I realized that I don't want to do this without you." Dean holds up a gold ring; the moonlight washes over it, illuminating it beautifully. "Take a leap of fate. Marry me?"

Piers pulls him close, kissing him and allowing Dean to slide the ring on his finger. "Nothing would make me happier."


	2. Distractions

_Word Count: 409_

* * *

Dean stands in the doorway, smiling to himself as he watches his boyfriend pressing buttons on the controller. On the screen, he can see the alien invasion, and Piers' character desperately runs back and forth, firing.

It's such a mindless thing, but Piers loves it. He says that video games help him release stress. Dean doesn't understand it; he has always preferred running on the field, lobbing the football into the net. Being active is more his forte, but to each his own. If Piers is happy, Dean is happy.

"Piers!"

His boyfriend doesn't look up from the screen, but his posture changes, indicating that he's heard Dean. "Sorry. Were you saying something?"

Dean rolls his eyes and shakes the bowl in his hand, causing the popcorn to make a soft noise as it rattles around. "I asked if you wanted some popcorn."

"Aren't you the sweetest thing?" Piers asks before swearing loudly. An alien has reached his character. The screen changes to crimson as the words _game over _flash across the screen.

Dean moves crosses the room, sitting beside Piers on the couch. "So close," he says with a soft laugh.

Piers narrows his eyes, reaching his hand into the popcorn bowl. "It isn't over until I say it's over," he says before tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and catching it skillfully on his tongue.

"Honestly, if I didn't know you better, I might be jealous of the telly," Dean teases.

Piers laughs before resetting the game. With a shrug, Dean sinks into cushions, smiling and content. Maybe he doesn't understand the appeal of video games, but that's okay; Piers doesn't like football but will still watch every West Ham match with Dean. In the end, their differences only make them stronger.

Piers' character is halfway to the first checkpoint when the house is suddenly plunged into darkness. "Son of a bitch!" Piers groans, dropping the controller to the floor.

A roll of thunder sounds, explaining the sudden power outage.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Dean snorts. "Hmmm… Alone with your boyfriend. What on earth could we possibly do together?"

With a laugh, Piers leans in, the movement knocking the bowl of popcorn from Dean's lap. There will be a mess to clean up later, but Dean doesn't mind. He wraps his arms around Piers, holding him close and listening to the rain pouring down outside.

It's going to be a good night.


	3. To Catch a Boyfriend

_Word Count: 676_

* * *

"Honestly, this is a disaster, and I want to curl up in the oven and die," Piers yells, staring at the black, smoking lumps. In theory, they're supposed to be his cousin's world famous chocolate chip cookies. In practice…

"That was dramatic," Max says with a snort, moving closer and remaining the failed baking attempt. "Huh. Maybe not."

Piers rolls his eyes. "Are you going to help me, or not?" He sounds like a petulant child, but he doesn't care. It's frustrating.

Max smirks and wraps an arm around Piers. "You never bake," he says. "Is this your attempt at boyfriend bait?"

Piers loves his cousin-turned-guardian with his whole heart, but he sort of wants to smack him. His cheeks burn, and he looks pointedly away. Apparently Max has noticed the way Piers watches their neighbor, Dean. Piers had assumed that he was being subtle. Clearly not.

Wearing a triumphant grin, Max discards the burnt cookies. "You could have just asked me for help," he says, making his way along and grabbing the necessary ingredients. "I'm _Gone With the Wind _fabulous."

"That… You do know that doesn't make any sense, right?" Piers asks, brows raising in confusion.

Max shrugs his slender shoulder. "Maybe not to you," he says before breaking out the measuring cup. "Now, it's important that you lay close attention. Got it?"

Piers leans against the counter. "Yes, Mother," he teases, though he really is watching closely. He wants to be able to get this right so that one day he can do this on his own.

…

The second batch of cookies is not a disaster. They're golden brown, and the chocolate looks warm and gooey. Piers' mouth waters. When he reaches for one, Max smacks his hand gently.

"No. These are for your boyfriend."

"I don't even have a boyfriend," Piers says dryly.

"Not yet." Max ruffles his hair affectionately. "But you will once you lay the bait."

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate?" Piers grumbles.

…

He catches Dean outside easily enough. Every afternoon, just after two o'clock, Dean likes to go out and kick the football around. Not that Piers has been watching him or anything...

"I have some cookies, if you need to replenish your energy," Piers says, lifting the plate and offering Dean a soft smile.

Dean nearly trips over the ball but manages to right himself quickly. With a grin, he wipes the back of his hand over his forehead. His skin is beaded with sweat, and his clothes are stained by grass, and he looks absolutely gorgeous.

Piers realizes he's staring and looks away, clearing his throat. "Erm… I hope you like them."

Dean takes one. Piers chances a glance at him, watching as Dean takes a bite. "These are really good. Did you make them?"

Piers wishes he could lie, but that would feel wrong. He doesn't want to start things off with dishonesty. "My cousin did," he answers. "My attempt more closely resembled lumps of coal."

Dean laughs. God it's such a beautiful sound. Piers wishes he could be funny and clever so that he could always keep Dean laughing.

"You know, Max calls his cookies boyfriend bait," Piers says before he can stop himself. "I think that's how he got his last two boyfriends."

Something flashes in Dean's eyes, something that Piers can't quite read. Has he made a mistake? He hopes not. Things are going so well, and he doesn't want to ruin it.

"Boyfriend bait," Dean echoes with a soft chuckle. "If I was about ten years older, I might date him."

He says it so casually, like he is secure enough in himself. This is such a crazy risk, but Piers thinks that maybe it will be worth it.

"Well, you could always date me," Piers says. "You'll still have access to his cookies, and I'm much more fun."

Dean takes another cookie. "There's a West Ham match tomorrow, and my parents and sisters are going to be away" he says. "Chinese takeaway, my place?"

"It's a date."


	4. Falling Asleep

_Word Count: 642_

* * *

Max is coming in from a late shift when Piers is halfway out the door. His cousin's brows raise. "It's midnight."

Piers shrugs, adjusting the indigo scarf around his neck. "Time is an illusion," he says before plucking his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "But nicotine cravings are not."

Max rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his dark curls thumping against his freckled skin. Piers is so grateful that Max puts up with his bullshit. He can't imagine how things would have been if his parents hadn't died and if Max hadn't adopted him. Would he still be the same?

Piers clears his throat. No point in pondering philosophical questions tonight. His mind is already too restless. Any deeper, and he might never fall asleep.

"Don't freeze," Max says before covering his mouth and yawning. "Make sure you lock the door when you come back in."

"Yes, Mummy."

"You're hysterical," Max says dryly.

With a smirk, Piers pulls a cigarette from the pack and tucks it between his lips. He steps outside, swearing softly. The steps are iced and slippery, and he has to grip the railing to keep from falling.

"Don't freeze," Piers mutters with a snort. "Easier said than done."

A fresh blanket of snow covers the street, and flakes continue to fall. Piers lights his cigarette, watching the snow drift, nearly hidden in darkness.

"You know that's a bad habit, right?"

The voice makes him jump and nearly lose his footing. By some miracle, Piers manages to find his balance before falling a bustling his ass. "Jesus! You scared me," he grumbles, scowling at his boyfriend.

Dean just grins and nudges him gently with his shoulder. "My name isn't Jesus," he says.

Piers rolls his eyes, but there's no denying the hint of a smile that curls the corners of his lips. He shouldn't be surprised that Dean is out here, willing to freeze if it means stealing a few extra moments with him. The two have been as thick as thieves for years, almost rivaling the closeness that Piers shares with Dudley. Sometimes it seems like the fancy Scottish boarding school is the only thing that ever really separates them.

"Can't sleep?" Dean guesses.

Piers shakes his head. "Is it really that surprising?" he asks before taking a drag from the cigarette and savoring the way the minty smoke, coupled with the cold air, stings his lungs.

He rarely sleeps. It's been years since he's managed to have a proper rest. His mind always races whenever he lies down, making it impossible to just drift away to the land of peaceful dreams.

"What are you doing still awake?" Piers asks, shivering as a gust of wind caresses his exposed skin.

Dean sees the shiver and moves closer, lending Piers a little more warmth. "Maybe you aren't the only one with insomnia," he says.

Piers drops his cigarette to the ground. The ember hisses as it makes contact with the snow. "You could stay the night," he offers. "You know Max doesn't mind."

Max had been ecstatic the first time Piers brought Dean home and introduced him as his boyfriend. Ever since, Max likes to pester him and ask when Dean is coming back by. Pain in the ass, really, but Piers still loves him.

"Just let me grab some clothes," Dean says. "Should probably leave a note, or my mum might actually murder me." He presses a quick kiss to Piers' cheek. "Be right back."

Piers watches as Dean hurries through the snow, and he smiles. He doesn't know if it will actually be enough to put his mind at ease and manage a restful night's sleep, but it doesn't matter. He loves the idea of falling asleep and waking up in his boyfriend's arms.

Sleep or no sleep, it's going to be a good night.


	5. Perfection

_Word Count: 509_

* * *

"Can't you just… you know… use magic?"

"Hold the ladder steady," Dean says, his words distorted as he holds a nail between his teeth. He takes it out, pressing the point against the board. "And I _could_, but don't you just love the thrill of building things the Muggle way?"

He hears Piers snort. "I don't know how to do things any other way," he says dryly. "You, on the other hand… Well, it's all just a bunch of hocus pocus."

Dean rolls his eyes, climbing to the next rung of the ladder, trying to get the position just right. His stepfather always says measure twice, cut once. Dean knows that doesn't apply to hammering, but he takes pride in perfection. His artist's eye makes it necessary for everything to be tidy and just right. Piers calls him ridiculous and accuses him of being impossible, but Dean doesn't care much.

He hits the nail on the head, watching as the metal sinks easily into the wood. Perfect.

…

The warm afternoon sun beats down on him as he climbs down the ladder. The base of the treehouse is done. All that's left is to paint it and let Seamus' girls decorate it as they please.

"You sure you aren't a carpenter?" Piers asks, pulling a beer from the cooler and popping the top off. "That's some damn good handiwork."

Dean takes a step back, observing the treehouse. It's basic, nothing special or fancy, but it does look good. "Beginner's luck," he says with a shrug as he grabs a beer for himself.

"Add a little of that hocus pocus, and you could make a fortune," Piers tells him.

Dean rolls his eyes, unable to resist a grin. Piers may be a Muggle, but Dean thinks be would have done well in Slytherin. God knows he has the ambition for it.

"Unca' Dean! Unca' Piers!" Rowan squeals as she runs out from the back door. "Mummy and Daddy say you gots a sprise for us!"

Dean chuckles as the four year old wraps her tiny arms around his legs. She looks more and more like Lavender each day. Sinead hurries after her sister, clutching daffodils and grinning. Her freckled face is smeared with hot-pink frosting.

"Daddy got us cupcakes!" Sinead says happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "And I got you flowers!"

"Well, we got you a treehouse!" Piers says.

Both girls seem to realize that something has changed since they left. Rowan squeals, clapping her hands together. Sinead rushes forward, climbing the ladder easily enough. "Come on, Ro! Come on!"

"Not bad," Seamus says, appearing at Dean's side. "Bit crooked, innit?"

Piers groans. "Don't you start. I will never hear the end of it," he says. "Fancy a beer, mate?"

"Nah." Seamus shakes his head. "But, really, it looks great. Thank you."

Dean just grins, leaning against Piers. One day, maybe they'll adopt kids of their own and be able to have these great adventures. For now, though, he is perfectly happy being the world's greatest uncle.


	6. The Type

_Aka Amber loves the four plus one style_

_Word Count: 454_

* * *

i.

Piers Polkiss most definitely has a type. He sees it when he's thirteen and realizes he is in love with his best friend.

Dudley is chubby, but there is a strength to his build. It draws Piers in, making him look at Dudley in a way he shouldn't.

They're friends. Just friends and nothing more. Dudley is, much to Piers' heartache, very much straight.

He will just have to live with it.

ii.

Miles Ritter is eerily like Dudley. Just as husky. Blond hair, blue eyes, rosy cheeks.

Piers has his first kiss with Miles when he's fifteen, and it feels so right, and he loves it.

"Tell me a secret," Piers whispers in Miles' eyes.

"I love you."

iii.

At sixteen, he meets Johnny Worthington. Blond hair, husky build. The eyes are wrong. Johnny has eyes as green as springtime, and his touch is much rougher than Miles' had been.

But he's just Piers' type, and he tells Piers that the universe set out their paths so perfectly.

"We were always meant to meet, you know," Johnny tells him as they sit together at the park, passing a cigarette between them.

Piers exhales a cloud of smoke, dark brows raising curiously. "Oh yeah?" he asks. "What makes you say that?"

"The universe doesn't make mistakes. We're meant to be, and you can't fight destiny."

And Piers believes him for three months, right up to the point that Johnny finds another boy to talk about the universe and fate with.

iv.

Nate Andrews is perfect. That same strong build, blue eyes, neatly-styled bond hair. Piers is instantly smitten.

But it isn't meant to be. Nate isn't over his ex, and he says it wouldn't be fair to Piers.

"I can't give you my heart," Nate tells him. "Not my whole heart. You deserve someone who can."

He kisses Piers goodbye, and Piers wants nothing more than to capture the moment, make it last forever, and never have to let go.

v.

Dean Thomas is most definitely not his type. He's tall and lean with brown eyes, dark hair, and dark skin.

But when Dean smiles, Piers thinks his heart might actually burst with desire.

"You're staring again," Dean says playfully, wrapping an arm around Piers.

"I am," Piers confirms.

"Any particular reason why?"

Piers grins and snuggles closer, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Because you are absolutely perfect."

He always imagined he would fall in love with someone who was more his type. He can still so clearly recall the way certain features had melted his heart when he was younger.

But the universe had other plans, and life doesn't seem to care about his expectations.

Piers doesn't mind at all.


	7. Melt

_Word Count: 478_

* * *

Piers raises his brows, staring at the lime-green ice cream. "See, I can buy the whole magic thing," he says, "but now you're just fucking with me. Enchanted ice cream?"

Dean nods. "Key lime," he says. "Your favorite."

Piers shakes his head, scrubbing his palm over his neck. _Enchanted _ice cream. Was there anything the magical community hadn't left its mark on? He's seen the strange moving photographs and had assumed it couldn't get much weirder than that. Clearly, he was wrong.

"What exactly is it enchanted to do?" Piers asks curiously.

"No matter what you do to it, it won't melt," Dean explains. "You could throw it in a furnace, and it would stay frozen."

That sounds sketchy, and Piers isn't sure if he trusts it. Part of the fun of eating ice cream is knowing trying to eat it before it melts. Brain freezes and sticky messes are fun, necessary risks.

But Dean smiles so brightly, so proud of himself for finding another new wizarding treat for Piers to try. It's become something of a game for him. Dean brings him magical sweets. For the most part, he's done a great job with it. The incident with the Pepper Imps, however…

"You swear it won't turn me into a frog?" Piers asks.

Dean rolls his eyes. "You watch too many films. Human-to-animal transfigurations aren't easy."

Piers snorts. He finds that hard to believe. Dean has told him about there's a treat out there that turns people into canaries.

Finally, he shrugs. "Nothing to lose," be says, dipping the spoon into the offered bowl of ice cream.

It is better than he could have imagined. The flavors are so rich and natural, and the ice cream is smooth as silk. He lets out a satisfied moan before taking another bite. Maybe this sort of thing is a good idea after all.

"Used to, everyone went to Fortescue's for ice cream. Oh, you would have loved his! But after Mr. Florean was killed…"

"Who the hell is Mr. Florean?" Piers asks.

"He owned Fortescue's. Keep up."

There are too many store owners to keep up with. Piers does try, though. He knows Mr. Flume owns Honeydukes, and the bloke with the goats has that one pub.

But there's so much to take in. It's been two years since Dean confessed to being a wizard. Piers has learned so much, but it still feels like there's an entire universe of strange and unusual things that he will never be able to know.

Still, he doesn't mind. Dean always looks so happy when he gets to share something with Piers. Even the smallest things have a huge impact. Maybe he will never know all the things that Dean knows, but he's looking forward to a lifetime of experiences and magic and loving each and every strange thing about his boyfriend.


	8. Kiss Me I'm Contagious

_Word Count: 464_

* * *

Piers looks absolutely miserable when Dean enters his flat. His nose is red, and his eyes are puffy.

"What have you done to me?" Piers groans, attempting to sit up. Within seconds, he collapses onto the sofa again, shivering.

"_I _didn't do anything," Dean says. "I would assume you have the flu."

Piers sniffles. He looks so frail and pitiful that it breaks Dean's heart.

With a sigh, Dean pulls his wand from his pocket. "_Accio_ blanket," he says. Piers' beloved grey-and-white striped blanket flies to his hand. He drapes it over Piers before pressing the back of his hand to Piers' forehead. "You're definitely hot."

The other man laughs. "Tell me something I don't know," he says, though his voice is thin and cracking.

Dean snorts. Of course Piers would flirt with him now. It doesn't matter how serious a situation is, Piers will find a way to goof off. "You're running a fever," Dean says. "Better?"

Piers sinks a little deeper into the cushion, whining softly. "Not really. Make it stop."

Dean sighs. His personal medical potion supply is not stocked. He always tells himself that he's going to keep all basic healing potions on hand, but he has, once again, failed miserably at it. Now his poor boyfriend is suffering.

He makes a mental note to write to Seamus. Lavender is pretty diligent where their potion cupboard is concerned. If anyone has a flu remedy, it will be them. One little letter, and Piers will be as good as new.

In the meantime, he has a sick boyfriend to tend to. "Get as comfy as you can," Dean instructs. "I'll fetch you some pain medicine if you're hurting."

He remembers the last time he had the flu. His muscles had ached so badly that he had been afraid he might actually physically break.

"Yes, please."

Another wave of his wand, and Dean summons the pill bottle, handing it to Piers. "Vegetable or chicken noodle?" he asks, making his way to the kitchen.

"Chicken noodle," Piers croaks.

Dean isn't the most amazing cook in the world, but canned soup is simple enough that even he can manage it. He opens the can and pours the soup into the pot before adjusting the temperature for the front stove eye. Once it begins to heat, he returns to the living room.

"One last question," Dean says, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

_"The Exorcist_," Piers answers. "Why?"

"I figure if we're stuck inside until you're better, why not make the most of it? Besides, October is the perfect time for a good, spooky movie."

Piers smiles weakly. "You know, if you're gonna spoil me like this, I might have to get sick more often."

"Don't you dare!"


	9. Sunshiney Day

_Word Count: 386_

* * *

"Everybody's mad here."

With a snort, Piers opens his eyes, squinting against the sun in his eyes. Dean stands before him, holding two ice cream cones, a tired look on his face. Piers wonders how long Dean had to wait in line.

A quick sweep of the beach confirms that several others had the same idea of how to spend this warm, sunny day. Who can blame them? Piers has been so caught up in his studies at university, and he needed this little escape to paradise.

"It's a properly sunny day," Piers reasons, shrugging. "How long has it been since we've had a day like this?" He holds up one finger, then another, silently counting. He gives up and shrugs again. "Too long."

"Too long?" Dean echoes, sitting beside him on the beach towel and stretching his long legs out. "Is that a precise measurement?"

With a roll of his eyes, Piers takes his ice cream cone from his boyfriend. "Hush, you."

"Make me."

Piers smirks, digging his toes into the sand. "Usually, when I make you hush, we end up naked," he murmurs. "Unfortunately, this is a public beach, and there are children around."

He feels the way Dean trembles beside him at that, and a triumphant grin plays at his lips. He leans against Dean, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"You know," Piers says, "I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."

And he means it. He's mistakenly believed he was in love before. In the end, he had only tried so desperately to be loved. With Dean, though, it is as natural as breathing. He loves Dean with every fiber of his body, heart, mind, and soul, and Dean makes him want to be better.

Dean leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I love you more."

Piers laughs and shakes his head. He doesn't know if Dean could ever understand how impossible that is. For so long, he had given up on ever being truly loved. At first, Dean had felt like his last chance to know what love feels like. Now, his eyes are open, and Dean just makes him feel so free.

He lifts his cone to his lips, flicking his tongue over the cold strawberry and vanilla ice cream. "Whatever you say, Dean."


	10. Beat the Heat

_Word Count: 399_

_Suggestive themes_

* * *

They're lounging around Max's living room, sweaty and miserable. Piers can't remember the last time it's been hot like this. The news says it's a heatwave, and Piers thinks the heat needs to wave goodbye and get the hell out of Surrey.

Dean brings them another glass of ice water. "This can't be healthy," he groans, sitting on the other side of the couch.

Piers hates that almost as much as he hates the heat. He misses being able to cuddle with Dean without worrying he would suffer a heat stroke. Over the past few days, they've had to keep a careful distance and just admire one another from afar.

"Which part?" Piers asks, fishing out an ice cube and pressing it to his forehead. The ice begins to melt, and the cold water feels amazing as it drips down his skin. "The part where we are literally roasting alive? Or do you mean the part where we're drinking so much water that I'm pretty sure my piss isn't actually piss anymore. It's just water, Dean."

"You're disgusting," Dean says, but he's smiling, so Piers knows he still loves him.

"You're the one who's still dating me," Piers counters with a smirk.

Dean snorts, eyes rolling. "To be fair, I was sort of desperate."

"Oi!"

They share a smile, silence hanging between them. Piers is grateful for Dean. He hasn't heard from Dudley in a week, not since that day at the park. The rest of his friends are actually Dudley's friends, and without their leader, they don't bother much with Piers.

But Dean is there. He's kept Piers from losing mind during all of this.

"What do you say we go skinny dipping?" Piers suggests, brows lifting suggestively. "There's a lake not too far from here."

"Right. Because I really want to get hit with a public indecency charge," Dean snorts.

"It would be fun."

"I don't think you understand how much my mum would murder me if I got arrested," Dean says, shaking his head.

Piers considers pushing the matter just a bit longer. Sometimes he can get his way if he asks nicely enough. A better idea changes his mind. Grinning, he climbs to his feet and holds out his hand. "Skinny dipping in the bathroom?" he suggests.

"That's just a shower."

Piers rolls his eyes. "Yeah. And?"

Dean accepts his hand. "And nothing. Let's go."


	11. The Truth

_Word Count: 458_

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?"

Dean feels relieved. Piers actually sounds happy to see him. He'd been worried that Piers would hate him, that his time on the run would have left Piers angry at his absence. Now here they are, nearly a year later, and Piers looks like he's about to cry when Dean appears in his yard.

"Get inside," Piers urges, and Dean does.

There's a flimsy plastic crown on the living room table. Dean picks it up, examining it in silence because he doesn't know what else to do or say. He's had so much time to plan this out, and yet it seems that his words are failing him already.

"Max got a new job," Piers explains. "They have stupid costumes as part of their gimmick. Ya know… 'King's Deli, where we treat you like royalty."

Dean nods and returns the crown to the table. "How is Max?"

"Where did you go, Dean?" Piers asks quietly. "First Dudley, then you. I need answers."

Truthfully, that's exactly why Dean is here. He knows that he owes Piers an explanation. Moreover, he thinks he's ready to finally tell Piers the truth.

"I think you might want to sit down," Dean suggests.

…

To his credit, Piers listens without interruption. Dean can see it in his eyes that he's putting the pieces together and realizing the truth.

"Dudley left because his family was in danger," Dean adds at the end. "Harry was an important player in the war."

"A wizard," Piers says, shaking his head. "So… Do you guys worship the devil?"

"I am not afraid to hex you, Piers," Dean says dryly, eyes rolling.

"Sorry. That was probably a ridiculous question. But you always hear it on the telly, don't you? Devil worshippers and all that."

Dean laughs. He'd had a similar concern when Professor McGonagall had appeared at his door all those years ago. He supposes it's difficult to shake the connotations associated with certain words.

"You're okay with this?" Dean asks. "You aren't like… freaked out or anything?"

"I love you," Piers answers, shrugging. Dean loves how simple it is with him. "Nothing is going to change that."

Dean lets out a relieved sigh. He had been so worried. In the back of his mind, he had thought about Seamus' mother. Her experience coming clean had been a fiasco. Dean wonders if things have just changed, or if maybe he is lucky.

"Can you ride a broomstick?" Piers asks.

"Yep. We have this sport, actually, called Quidditch," Dean explains.

And as he talks, he smiles. It's so easy for him to open up to Piers, and he's grateful that he can finally share these little moments from his life without fear or judgement.


	12. Disagreements

_Word Count: 376_

* * *

Piers groans and rolls his eyes. "Do you know why she's still alive?" he asks, gesturing at the woman on the television. "Because zombies eat brains, and she ain't got any!"

Dean snorts. "Oh, come on," he says before dumping a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He pauses to chew it before continuing. "She is a testament to the fact that you don't have to be some strong, badass woman to survive these things. She's independent, but she is also not afraid to show her softer, more vulnerable side."

It's something they will never agree on, regardless or what film or program they watch together. If Dean loves a character, Piers undoubtedly hates them. It makes things more interesting, but it also means they spend most of the time bickering back and forth about a bloody character or plot point.

Still, Dean enjoys it. Sometimes they miss things, but at least he has Piers. That makes it all worth it.

"Puh-lease," Piers says, taking the bowl of popcorn from Dean and digging through it until he finds the most buttery piece. He pops it into his mouth. "Don't tell me you've jumped onto the Anna bandwagon."

"Hush, you. It's just getting to the good part."

They sit in silence, but he can feel the tension in his boyfriend's body. Piers really gets so ridiculously invested in these programs. Dean thinks it's adorable, really. It's some semblance of normalcy. In his world, there is a war and uncertainty. Here with Piers, there is peace and the notion that things will be fine.

"This is terribly uncomfortable," Dean says.

"What is?"

"You're practically bouncing," Dean answers, snorting. "You want to argue with me about Anna."

Piers groans and leans back, sinking into the couch slightly. "She is awful, Dean! Don't you dare defend her!"

"See?" Dean climbs to his feet and shakes his head. "I knew it!"

"Where are you going?" Piers asks, folding his arms over his chest with a huff.

"I'm going to order some takeaway. What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza."

And Dean doesn't have to ask anything else. They may not agree on much when it comes to fiction, but ham and pineapple pizza with extra mushrooms will always unite them.


	13. What I Wouldn't Give

_Word Count: 1240_

* * *

Dean decides to pretend it is just another normal evening. If he makes a big deal out of this, he might fall apart. He knows he needs to turn and run, leave Surrey behind him and never look back because it's too dangerous to linger for too long.

He can't. He won't. Not without seeing his boyfriend one last time.

…

Max greets him with a smile. "You're just in time for dinner. Come on. Sit."

Dean knows better than to say he doesn't want to impose. Max doesn't know how to cook for only two people, and he and Piers often have leftovers stashed away in the freezer for at least a month. So he just smiles and nods, and his heart melts when he sees Piers.

In that moment, he isn't actually sure if he can do this.

Piers grins, folding his thin arms over his chest. "Just gonna stand there and look at me, or are you gonna eat?" he teases.

"Maybe I missed your stupid face," Dean says, closing the distance between them.

He kisses Piers, and he feels a dagger through his heart. This could be the last night he sees Piers again. There is a war going on, and he knows all too well that not everyone makes it out alive. What's to stop him from becoming another casualty? Will someone let Piers know? How can they even explain it to him.

He doesn't even realize he's crying until Piers pulls away, frowning. He touches a gentle finger to Dean's cheek, wiping away a teardrop. "Dean? What is it? What's wrong?" he asks.

Dean tries his best to smile and make it look convincing. "It's been a day."

Max enters the room from the hallway leading into the kitchen. "Sorry to be a killjoy, lovebirds," he calls in a cheerful, sing-song voice, "but you need to break it up. Dinner is served."

…

Later, after two helpings of beef stew and the most delicious homemade bread he's ever eaten, Dean follows Piers outside. Piers tucks a cigarette between his lips and lights it, inhaling. After exhaling a cloud of white smoke, Piers speaks.

"You gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you?" he asks, frowning.

Dean almost laughs. Where to even begin? There are too many things that Piers doesn't know about him. Dean always told himself that he would explain them one day, that he would somehow find the time. _One day _never came, and now there are so many things that he will have to leave unsaid.

"Who says there's something going on?" Dean takes a seat on the cool grass, tilting his face toward the sky. The stars are coming now, twinkling overhead.

"Please. We've been dating for three years," Piers says dryly. "Do you really think I don't know you well enough to know when something is bothering you?"

Dean's lips quirk into a half-smile. "You're cute when you're worried."

Piers sits beside him. "Don't change the subject," he says before taking another drag. "You can't sidetrack me that easily."

"Are you sure?" Dean trails his fingers along Piers' arm. "I'm pretty sure I can."

Piers' eyes close; he shivers despite the warm summer night. "You are not about to fight dirty," he says, and he inches away. "Talk to me."

"I have to go away for a while."

"Why?"

Dean bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn't know what to say. Anything he says will make Piers worry or think Dean needs to be committed into an asylum.

He swallows dryly, hoping he can make it believable. "It's a trip," he says. "My art class is going on a trip to Athens."

Good. His voice is strong, and he doesn't betray the heavy emotions that weigh on him. That's a start at least.

Piers raises his eyebrows. "Greece, huh? I always wanted to go."

"Maybe we can go together one day. We've never gone on holiday together. It'll be fun."

If Dean makes it back.

If Dean doesn't die.

If Dean manages to survive and come back with his sanity intact.

"You didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Piers says, amusement clear in his voice. "Were you worried I would try to stop you?"

If Piers knew the truth, he _would _try to stop Dean. But Dean doesn't tell him this. He just smiles and tries for a laugh; it sounds so stiff and awkward, but Piers doesn't say anything about it.

"Don't worry about me. I'll just be here, pining over you while you run away and sketch all the Greek boys," Piers continues, dropping his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it. "But seriously, how exciting."

Dean almost laughs. _Exciting _is the last word he would use for it. He's terrified, though he doesn't show it. He has to be brave because this goodbye has to go well; he cannot make Piers worry.

"Yeah. We'll be gone for a month," Dean says, and his chest aches. He knows he will be gone for much longer. Wars don't just end almost immediately after they begin.

Behind them, the door opens, and Max steps out, all smiles. "Come on," he calls, waving them forward. "I've got a new cake for you to try."

…

Max's newest creation is a lemon cake with blueberry and cream cheese icing, topped with white chocolate chips. It's the most delicious thing Dean has ever eaten, and he doesn't even like lemon.

His heart is heavy as he sits in the kitchen with two of his favorite people. He would give anything to stay here, to continue a normal life with laughter and cake and football and love. Just the thought of it makes his eyes sting. He looks away, quickly brushing the tears from his eyes before they can fall.

Piers and Max are too deep in conversation to notice. Good. Dean needs this to be as easy as possible.

"I should go," Dean says once he's finished his cake. He's even eaten every single crumb, so desperate to make this moment last a little longer. "I've got a lot of packing to do."

"Packing?" Max echoes curiously.

"Dean is going to Greece," Piers explains.

"Ooh!" Max claps his hands together. "I've always wanted to visit. Take lots of pictures for me, yeah?"

"Yeah," Dean says. "Of course."

Piers follows him out, taking him by the hands. They share a kiss under the soft glow of the streetlight, and Dean wonders if Piers can taste the deception on his tongue.

"I'll miss you," Dean tells him when he pulls away.

Piers just grins and presses one more quick kiss to his lips. "It's not like we won't see each other again," he says.

Dean swallows down the guilt. "Yeah. You're right. See you later."

They go their separate ways. Piers returns home, and Dean goes next door. He has a bag packed with his wand, a few changes of clothes, some food, and his art supplies. Not exactly the luggage needed for a fancy adventure in Greece.

Heart heavy, he climbs out his window. His eyes linger on Piers' house once more. He can see his and Max's silhouettes through the curtains. He wants to join them, to be a part of their life.

But he can't. As long as he's here, everyone is in danger. He has to run.

He just wishes he had a choice.


	14. Love Snores

_Word Count: 518_

* * *

Dean stares up at the ceiling, blinking. This is the first time he's slept over at Piers' and it's strange. Though the bed is comfortable and warm, and Piers snuggles against him so perfectly, but Dean still cannot relax. He can't help but feel somewhat overwhelmed by how new and different this is.

It's okay. He remembers struggling to fall asleep at Hogwarts that first night. Truth be told, he struggled to get comfortable for the first week or two in the castle. It's completely normal.

He closes his eyes, silently counting backwards from a hundred. He makes it to seventy-three before a sudden sound draws him back to the waking world. Beside him, Piers snores. It isn't a cute, soft snore. It sounds like Piers has swallowed a chainsaw, and it can be heard every time he opens his mouth.

Dean groans and closes his eyes. Everything is fine. Seamus snores. Ron, too. It's just an unfortunate thing that comes with sharing sleeping quarters with anyone.

He hums softly. It's mercifully enough to drown out those snores, but his own humming is going to drive him mad. Dean has always preferred perfect silence in order to fall asleep.

With another groan, he covers his head with a pillow, but it's difficult to breathe. Dean laughs, the sound hopeless and defeated. Nothing seems to work out the way he would like it to. In the back of his mind, he remembers that sleep deprivation can drive one to madness, but he's also certain that a few hours won't do it. No, he's just frustrated, and his exhaustion is only amplifying it.

Everything will be okay. All he has to do is figure out how to fall asleep.

…

Piers is way too perky for it to be seven in the morning. "Don't tell me you're going to just sleep all day."

Dean sits up, blinking his sleep-heavy eyes slowly. The world is still blurry, but he can just barely make out the numbers on the clock. "All day?" He shakes his head. "No. But at least until noon. It's summer holiday."

Piers just laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You gotta carpe the fuck outta that diem!"

Dean is reasonably sure that's not how Latin works, but he doesn't have the energy to mention it. All he wants is to curl up under the blankets and sink into the mattress. Just five more minutes wouldn't hurt…

Except Piers doesn't give him a chance to lie back down. His slender fingers wrap around Dean's wrist, and he pulls him out of bed. Dean doesn't complain. At the end of the day, he is fully aware that he would do anything for Piers, even wake up at an ungodly hour.

"Come on. Let's get some coffee in you," Piers says.

Dean finds himself smiling as he allows Piers to lead him along. They aren't a perfect match, and he thinks Piers would so easily drive him up the wall. But it's okay. He loves Piers with every fiber of his being, and he will happily accept their differences.


	15. Extraordinary

_Word Count: 360_

* * *

"What the hell is your problem?" Dean demands.

He doesn't bother to knock, doesn't bother with pleasantries at all. Piers has been avoiding him for three days now, and he's fed up. Why bother being nice if his boyfriend doesn't give a shit?

"Get out," Piers says, his voice a low growl.

"No."

Dean has promised himself before that he wouldn't stick around where he isn't wanted. Maybe he should leave and pretend Piers ever existed. But he can't. He loves Piers too much, and he cannot help but think that Piers loves him too, despite all of this. Maybe he's a fool for trying, but how can he just give up?

"What the hell is your problem?" Dean demands again, and he vows to ask it a thousand more times if Piers continues to ignore him.

"You're a bloody _wizard!_" Piers snaps.

Dean flinches. Maybe he should have expected this. Still, the words hurt. "I can't help what I am," he whispers.

"I'll never be what you want me to be," Piers says, and the anger has faded from his voice. He just sounds sad. "I can't be like… like you."

Dean stares at him, jaw slack. He's heard, but it doesn't make any sense. After several seconds, he laughs, shaking his head. "Please tell me you're joking," he says. "You don't actually think… Oh, Piers."

His boyfriend's pale cheeks glow a soft pink. "I… was dumb, wasn't I?" he groans, smacking his forehead with his palm.

Dean laughs. "Just a bit," he confirms, holding his thumb and index finger close together to illustrate his words.

"You don't…" Piers climbs to his feet, laughing awkwardly. He scrubs his palm over the back of his neck. "You love me, even if I'm ordinary?"

Dean closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Piers. "I don't know who told you that you're ordinary, but you're far from it," he whispers before kissing his boyfriend gently.

He had been so afraid that things were over, that Piers had grown to hate him. In the end, he thinks that this is only the beginning. They will grow stronger and make something beautiful.


	16. Sweet Comfort

_Word Count: 319_

* * *

Dean tries to peer outside, but all he sees is pitch black. Thunder booms, and he can't help but jump. He feels silly immediately. Of course it's thundering; it's been storming all day. Lightning flashes, splitting open the sky for a brief moment and illuminating the raindrops on the window before plunging the world into pitch black again.

"Do you mind sitting down?" Piers asks, appearing in the living room. "You make me nervous. Like… something is wrong."

Dean offers his boyfriend an apologetic smile. Bad weather always puts Piers on edge. "What have you got there?"

Piers just smirks because it's obvious. Cheesecake, drizzled with chocolate and caramel. Piers has even gone the extra mile and made hot chocolate to go with it. "Stress cooking," he answers, taking a seat. He kicks off his shoes, revealing his mismatched socks. One is lilac with teal stripes, the other a plain black. Piers might be a super serious law student by day, but that doesn't mean he has to be like everyone else.

"I wish I could cook." Dean chuckles and sits beside Piers, lifting the cup of cocoa and sipping. "All I can do is stress eat."

"If you like, I can teach you," Piers offers. "After all, there are some things magic can't do."

He's right, of course. Even the most talented cooks can't just make food appear. In the back of his head, he remembers Dirk explaining exactly why. It seems like a lifetime ago.

"Not tonight," Dean says. "But one day." Dean bites into his cheesecake, letting out a happy sigh. "One day _soon_."

"Sorry we couldn't go on a proper date tonight," Piers says, sighing heavily.

Thunder continues to roll, sometimes loud and violent enough to shake the house. It doesn't matter. Dean has Piers, and something as silly as nasty weather doesn't seem so important.

"Doesn't matter. I wouldn't trade this for the world."


	17. Getting Better

_Word Count: 356_

_Warning: addiction_

* * *

"I want to come clean."

Piers doesn't look so well, Dean notices. The realization sends a shock through his body, and he's alert and on edge. "What's going on?"

At first Piers doesn't speak. He stands there, wringing his trembling hands together, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. Dean has never seen him like this. Not really. Maybe he's noticed the little cracks and breaks here and there, but it has never been this bad.

"I…" Piers swallows. "I have an addiction, Dean."

Dean doesn't know what to say. Part of him wants to joke. _Yeah, I get it. You're addicted to me. _But he can see the seriousness in his boyfriend's eyes.

"Alcohol," Piers adds.

Dean has noticed, of course. It's hard not to. Piers is haunted by his past, and it's far too easy to drown the demons with burning liquor than to face them.

He feels miserable. How could he not see how bad it really is?

No. It doesn't do anyone any good to beat himself up over it. Maybe he didn't realize the extent of it, but it's out in the open now. There's a chance to make things okay.

"I think…" Piers groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Fuck. I think I need to go to… to… _rehab._"

He says the word like it's dirty, like needing help is something shameful. Dean's on his feet in an instant, moving closer and taking Piers by the hands. "Hey. It's okay. I'm proud of you, okay?"

Piers scowls and tries to pull away, but Dean doesn't let go. A moment passes, and his boyfriend relaxes into the touch, his head resting on Dean's shoulder.

"I haven't done anything to be proud of."

Dean shakes. "You have. You're giving yourself a fighting chance to get better," he says. "If that isn't amazing, I don't know what is."

It's going to be a big change, and he knows it won't be easy. Still, Piers is his boyfriend, and Dean will do whatever it takes to see him happy and thriving. They will get through this, and it will all be okay.


	18. When the Night Ends

_Word Count: 456_

* * *

Dean feels absolutely giddy as he and Piers turn onto Magnolia Crescent, hands held. They could have gotten a taxi, but Dean is glad they didn't. The night is too perfect, and he doesn't want it to end. Sure, his feet and ankles will probably be sore in the morning, but life is short. What's the point if he doesn't do what he loves? And spending time with his boyfriend is the greatest joy in the world.

"You're staring," Piers says. His tone is soft, and Dean knows he really doesn't mind; it's just his way of teasing, like he's caught Dean doing something scandalous.

"Just enjoying the view," Dean laughs, using his free hand to adjust his coat.

It's amazing how natural it feels with Piers. There's no rush, no great emergency. Admittedly, there is a constant temptation there, and Dean feels like he will never have enough Piers in his life.

"I don't want tonight to end," Dean admits.

But they're getting closer to their houses, and Dean knows it's inevitable. Maybe there will come a day when he won't have to dread the end of the night. For now, however, it is just a tragic part of being young and in love.

"Me neither."

They come to a stop at the edge of Piers' lawn. Dean's heart threatens to jump out of his throat. Nothing else makes him feel so right, so alive. Their eyes meet.

And then he feels the first _pat, pat, pat _of rain. Just a soft drizzle, barely a bother at all. He could almost ignore it, except quickly picks up strength. Freezing rain falls onto them, and Piers just laughs.

"We'll catch our deaths!" Dean calls, sputtering and shivering.

Piers leans in, fingers brushing over Dean's rain-slick cheeks as he cups his face gently. "Worth it," he whispers, and their lips meet.

Dean almost wants to laugh. It's a cliche straight out of the films his sister, Sam, loves. If she found out he was being kissed in the rain, her head would probably explode, and she'd ask him a million questions.

They break apart, almost reluctantly. Piers grins. "That being said, I would hate for you to catch pneumonia. See you tomorrow?"

Dean goes in for one last quick kiss. "Of course."

With that, they part ways. Piers goes inside while Dean walks one house over. He's drenched to the bone, trailing water everywhere. His mother frets and fusses over him, calling for Sam to get some cocoa started.

Still smiling, Dean makes his way to his room, ready to get out of his clothes and into something dry and warm. It really has been such a perfect night. Now, if only it didn't have to end.


	19. Of Scares and Compromise

Word Count: 416

* * *

They're in the middle of breakfast when Piers realizes there's still one thing he doesn't know about Dean after four years of dating. "Hey, Dean?"

"Hmm?" His boyfriend's mouth is full of toast, muffling the sound.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

Halloween is right around the corner, and it will be their first one together. Piers loves the idea of curling up together and watching all the best horror movies. He and Dudley had done it loads of time, minus the cuddling, but that's different. Dudley would have undoubtedly had several questions if Piers had snuggled close to him during the scary moments.

Dean rolls his eyes. After several moments of chewing, he swallows, washing the toast down with coffee. "I don't really do scary movies," he says, dusting crumbs off his teal jumper. "Oi! Don't look at me like that!"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Piers says, properly appalled. "How can you not like scary movies? Too scared? I'll hold your hand."

Dean gives him that look, and it only makes Piers grin more broadly. "No, they aren't scary. But they're not entertaining… Or accurate. Witches don't look like that. And don't get me started on the werewolves!"

Piers raises his brows, curious. "What's wrong with werewolves?"

"Nothing. That's the thing. They aren't monsters. Had a professor who was a werewolf once."

Piers laughs, but Dean looks dead serious. Sometimes it's so easy to forget that Dean is part of such a strange and unusual world that is so different from the one Piers knows. He doesn't always know when Dean is joking, but he guesses that Dean really had a werewolf for a teacher before, and he decides not to press for more information.

"Sorry if I ruined your big spooky plans," Dean adds.

"Nah. I've got more things in mind."

…

That night, he watches, smiling as Dean carves a pumpkin. Dean, ever the artist, works slowly and carefully, and Piers is sure it will put his to shame. Piers' is just a face with a lopsided smile and eyes that don't even come close to matching.

They've settled for other Halloween type movies, no horror required. Still, Dean spent much of Beetlejuice explaining how ghosts aren't really like that.

It's such a strange feeling. Piers never would have considered himself the domestic type, but it's just so easy with Dean, like this is the life he's always been meant to live. Everything is falling into place, and he has never felt more satisfied.


	20. Hope For the Future

_Word Count: 721_

* * *

_"I always hated camping," Piers says._

_Dean raises his brows, surprised. Piers doesn't seem like the outdoors type, but he has always given Dean the impression that he loves a good challenge. "Really?"_

_His boyfriend nods, scowling. "Sleeping outside… It reminds me of them."_

_Dean doesn't have to ask. The only people who can make Piers look so troubled and terrified are his dead parents. Some wounds will never heal, and he knows that Piers is haunted by some dark things. _

_"They used to… I was maybe six," Piers says, shaking his head. He shivers. "I wet the bed, and they made me sleep outside in my wet clothes."_

_"That's awful." Dean reaches out, taking Piers' hand. "Why did you want to go camping if you hate it so much?"_

_"Because you're here," Piers answers, smiling. "That makes it better."_

…

Dean misses his pencils, but they have long since been whittled down beyond use. All he has now is a blackened stick, a rough attempt at making charcoal. At least it works. It leaves black, messy streaks across the paper, but Dean knows how to work with them until they take form.

"He must be important to you." Ted sits beside him, smiling kindly. "I've seen you drawing him a lot."

Dean nods. His sketchbook had been blank when this had all begun, the one luxury he had allowed himself to carry into this terrifying new world. Now, most pages are covered with Piers' face. "His name is Piers," he explains, "and I love him."

…

_"Wait. Did you just say what I think you said? Don't tease me."_

_Dean just laughs. "I said I love you," he confirms. _

_It feels so natural to say it, and the way Piers' face lights up, despite the clear confusion, makes Dean's heart melt. _

_"I love you too," Piers whispers, and the way he kisses Dean after is different._

…

"I don't even know if I'll ever see him again."

That's the worst part. He tries so hard to have faith, but it's so bloody hard. Why can't things be clearer? He would give anything to be able to look into one of Trelawney's crystal balls and see the future laid out before him. At least then he would know if he should have said more.

"I'm so scared," Dean adds.

"So am I," Ted assures him. "Leaving Andi and Dora nearly killed me. We didn't have a choice, you know."

And Dean does know. Still, it doesn't make it any easier.

…

_They're laying on the lawn, eyes fixed upon the night sky. Piers places his hand in Dean's. _

_"You're acting weird."_

_Dean swallows dryly, guilt making his stomach twist itself into knots. He knows it's true. His mind is blurred with fear and panic and concern, but he wants to pretend things are normal. Just for one more night. _

_"I'm just watching the stars," he says. _

_"Bullshit."_

_"Not completely."_

_Piers rolls onto his side, turning his gaze to Dean. "What's going on?"_

_And Dean can't hide it anymore. The truth spills from his lips, every bit of it, and it makes his heart ache. He doesn't have a choice. If he stays, they will find him. If he turns himself in, he's a dead man walking._

_"Dean… It can't… I thought…" Piers sits up. "It's all just a bunch of hocus pocus. Right? There… You can't really be in danger."_

_"I wish I could say you're right," Dean tells him._

_"When do you…?"_

_"Tonight."_

_He wishes things could be different. This is where he belongs. It isn't fair that he has to give this up. _

_"Promise me you'll come back," Piers whispers._

_Dean knows it's dumb to make promises during a war. There's no guarantee that anyone will make it out alive, and false hope is such a cruel thing._

_But he nods. "I promise."_

…

Dean drops the stick, studying his drawing. It isn't the real thing, and he would give anything to have Piers here with him now, to have the world go back to normal.

It won't. Maybe it will never be normal again. For now, the good is in the past. This new world is his reality, and all he can do is cling to the past and let it fuel him toward a better, brighter future.


	21. Sweet Somethings

_Word Count: 672_

_For Lo_

* * *

Maybe it's the summer sun on his skin, or maybe it's the way Piers doesn't let go of his hand as they make their way through the city, but Dean just feels overwhelming joy, like his heart might burst at any given moment.

"When does it open?" Dean asks.

"Officially? Next week. But Max is in today, working on some fancy schmancy cake for a woman's dog's baby shower. Puppy shower?" Piers shrugs and adjusts his hand so that his fingers lace with Dean's. "Rich people are weird."

Dean snorts. "Very weird," he agrees.

They come to a stop outside of a small shop. It's adorable and cozy with it's cyan door and yellow writing announcing that Sweet Somethings Bakery's grand opening is happening the following Friday. Dean can't help but grin. Max, Piers' cousin-turned-guardian, has dreamt of owning his own bakery for so long. At least it's finally happening.

Piers pulls out a key and slides it into the lock, opening the door. Max barely glances up when they step inside; he is hyper-focused on whatever design he's doing for the cake.

"What? No 'hello' for your favorite cousin?" Piers teases.

Max snorts. "My people skills are rusty," he says, finally looking up at them. "It's easy to forget how to interact with people when you're surrounded by cake all day."

"This place looks amazing, Max," Dean says, looking around. He can so easily imagine what it will look like when it opens, all the baked goods, all the elegant decorations and designs.

Piers digs in his pocket, plucking a few bills and dropping them onto the counter. "Your first paying customers would like some cookies."

"You really aren't the first," Max points out. "Not even the shop's first. I'm not baking a dog's cake out of the goodness of my heart."

Dean starts to interrupt, confused. Max isn't in business yet. Aside from the cake, it doesn't look like there's anything else that has been prepared at all. His brows knit together, forehead wrinkling as he tries to make sense of it.

Before he can even find the right question to ask, however, Max walks back, grabbing a platter of cookies, worth way more than what Piers had paid. But that isn't the part that catches him off guard. Dean sees the glint of silver on top of the pile, and his jaw drops slightly. Maybe it's just a trick of his eyes or something. This can't be real. These sort of things only happen in cheesy romance movies.

But Piers takes the platter, and Dean can clearly see the silver band on top. "I know. It's dumb, but it was Max's idea," he explains, laughing softly.

"Romance isn't dead, you heathen," Max says with a huff, folding his arms over his chest. "Stop acting like it is."

Piers rolls his eyes, but Dean notices the way the corners of his lips twitch, like he's trying so hard not to smile. "So anyway, mushy shit aside… Dean, you're amazing. I am so glad that you are in my life, and I never want to lose that. Will you… Do you wanna get married?"

Dean picks the silver band up, staring at it in amazement. They've been together for what feels like an eternity (though he knows it's really much closer to six years), but it still feels impossible that Piers would actually want this, that they can really and truly spend the rest of their lives together.

But there's the ring; there's the proof. It's real.

He slides the ring onto his own finger, grinning. "Please move the tray so I don't knock the cookies over," he says. When Piers does, Dean throws his arms around him, kissing him fiercely.

"Just know that I will happily cater. And plan the whole damn wedding," Max offers, but Dean barely hears him at all. "Right. Well… I'll just go back to work."

It's such a big change, but Dean knows without a shadow of a doubt that he is ready for it.


	22. Theirs

_word count: 536_

* * *

Dean steps out of the car, grinning as the wind caresses his skin. "You can just smell autumn in the air," he says, inhaling deeply.

Autumn has a smell all its own. This new neighborhood, even more so. He can smell the leaves, the earth, the scent of pies baking, and he loves it.

Piers shuts his door, coughing. "I can't smell shit," he grumbles, sniffling.

Dean rolls his eyes. "I did tell you to take some Pepperup Potion to knock that out," he says.

Piers huffs, making a face. Dean laughs because he understands. Once, just once, two years ago, he had convinced Piers to try the potion; Piers had not been even remotely amused by the steam that had billowed from his mouth and nose. Ever since, he has reverted back to the old fashioned way of letting it run its course.

Dean only wishes he had tried it again today. It's the big event; they've been preparing to move house, and now it's finally happening. Unfortunately, Piers looks like he might collapse at any given moment.

"I'm fine," Piers insists, like he knows what Dean is thinking.

"You don't look fine."

"Ouch." Piers holds his hand over his heart, bottom lip poking out in a mock pout. "You told me I was pretty this morning."

Before Dean can comment, a car pulls up beside them. A moment later, Dudley hops out. "Aye, aye!" he calls. He looks at Piers. "You look like shit."

"Is it Gang Up On Piers Day?" Piers groans, turning his head and coughing. "I'm perfectly fine."

Dean and Dudley exchange glances. They both know Piers is too stubborn for his own good. A moment of silence passes between them before Dudley shrugs. Really, there's nothing to be done.

"Right. Let's start unloading, then," Dudley declares, clapping his hands together.

…

It's theirs. Really theirs. Not theirs until the landlord discovers they're not just best friends. The kind of theirs that holds a promise of forever. Dean smiles to himself, watching as Piers prepares a drink.

"See? I don't need your potion," he says, squeezing the juice from a lemon wedge into his warmed whiskey. "I can make my own potions."

Dean considers pointing out that it isn't the same, but he knows Piers already knows that. Let him have it. If it gets bad enough, he knows Piers will swallow his pride and take the potion. In the meantime, if he's content to treat himself with little remedies, Dean isn't going to stop him.

"I just hate it's our first night in the new house, and you aren't feeling well," Dean tells him.

Piers shrugs. "I guess you have no choice but to pamper me and take care of me."

Dean laughs and moves closer. "Well, unfortunately, no kisses for you until this passes. However, I think a pizza and a rewatch of Star Wars might help."

"Extra cheese?" Piers grins. "It, uh… it's good for congestion."

"I'm sure it is."

It's a new chapter in their lives, a big step in the right direction. It isn't the sort of perfect day that Dean had hoped it would be, but that's okay. It's theirs, and that's all that matters.


	23. A Brief Homecoming

_Word Count: 644_

_Voldemort wins!au_

* * *

Not for the first time since stepping foot on Magnolia Crescent, Dean wonders if he's making a mistake. No one in their right mind would do this. He ought to be running like all the others.

He will of course. But not now. Not yet. Maybe he's a fool, but that's okay; he just knows he has to see Piers one last time.

…

"Where the hell have you been?" Piers demands, angry color staining his face. He looks like he might cry, and Dean hopes he doesn't. It's hard enough to hold himself together. He would crumble if Piers lost it. "It's been nearly a year, Dean! A bloody year!"

"I know," Dean whispers. "I know."

He bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood. It keeps him grounded, keeps him from drifting off to the bad places where his mind likes to go if he doesn't catch himself. It's been harder and harder to stay in the moment.

"There was a war," Dean whispers. "We lost."

"The wizards?"

Dean nods his confirmation. At least Piers understands, if not completely. It isn't much, but it makes things just a bit easier. "Seamus is… Fuck, Piers… He's dead. Harry Potter is dead. We… I…"

Piers' eyes widen at Harry's name. Dean knows they hadn't exactly been friends, but it still must be a shock. "I need a drink."

Dean laughs. A drink barely even covers the things he needs. "I can't stay. I… I'm still fighting, Piers."

"Dean, please don't." Piers grabs his hand, squeezing tightly. "You could stay with me. We can run."

It's tempting, so very tempting. Could they do it? He's certain it wouldn't be too difficult; they could hop in a plane and go to America, hide out until everything is normal again. It can be done.

But Dean doesn't know if he really wants to. Yes, finding safety would be smart. He could walk away from this war, unburdened by the defeat. There's a chance that he can live a happy life with the boy he loves.

But what would that make him? A coward. A person who has watched too many people die and refuses to honor their deaths. It isn't enough to be upset about what's happening. In the grand scheme of things, his life doesn't mean very much. There's a bigger picture, a terrible enemy, and he knows he has to see this through. It's what Ted would have done. Dirk. Harry. Seamus. Padma.

Too many names, too many people he cared about, and they're all gone. Dean knows his own safety isn't promised, and he could lose everything, but he has to keep fighting.

He kisses Piers quickly on the lips. "I do want you to hide," he says. "They can trace you back to me."

"Dean…"

"I'm sorry. I have to keep fighting. I just wanted to see you one last time."

"One more time," Piers corrects. "Don't say it's the last time."

Dean kisses him again, tears clinging to his lashes. When he pulls away, he wipes his eyes and offers Piers his bravest smile. "One more time," he agrees with a shaky laugh. "This isn't goodbye."

He doesn't know that for sure, of course, and that kills him a little bit on the inside. Still, there isn't anything he can do. This is a war, and he has to carry on.

"I love you," he says, smiling when Piers says it back.

…

As he leaves Magnolia Crescent, he decides it hadn't been a mistake to come here. They say that emotions have no place in war, but Dean doesn't agree. It reminds him that he has someone waiting for him back home, that he has to make it out alive because the alternative would destroy the boy he loves.

He will keep fighting. He doesn't have a choice.


End file.
